


The Real Truth

by thestruttingdead



Category: The Boys (TV 2019)
Genre: Alpha!Billy Butcher, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Canon Divergence - Season 1 Finale, Daddy Kink, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega!Homelander, Oral Sex, canon Homelander is an irredeemable trash fire so this is ooc I guess, how could I have forgotten to add daddy kink as a tag it’s a fic with Homelander for fuck’s sake
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:28:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27573112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestruttingdead/pseuds/thestruttingdead
Summary: Homelander got more information when he went back to Vogelbaum, but it wasn’t about Becca.
Relationships: Billy Butcher/The Homelander | John
Comments: 38
Kudos: 186





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is not an attempt to woobify canon Homelander, this is me merging my enjoyment of a/b/o with my frustration of Toni Starr’s acting being so good that I still think ‘aw but what if-‘ any time the shitbag acts vulnerable

“-sure, your heart’s pounding, but...you’re not afraid. It’s anger. That’s a new one for me.”

“Homelander, _please,_ take the baby upstairs.”

The caped hero turns to glare at Sitwell, jaw tensing for just a moment before he lets out a soft little laugh. His legs are a bit shaky as he carries the baby over to his crib. “Alright, little man, have a little lie down. Mommy and I need to talk.”

Butcher’s eyes are on the more obvious wobble in the man’s gait as he approaches the hostage and bends down, brow furrowing ever so slightly at the observation. Since when did Homelander have so much as a nerve twitch when he doesn’t want it to?

“You promised me no more lies, you _fucking promised me._ You and Vogelbaum should have got your stories straight. They were so close, so fucking _close,_ but there were a few little details that were different... So I went back to Vogelbaum, and I managed to _squeeze_ the truth out of him. The real truth.” Finally, he has to sink to his knees in front of Madelyn, his legs threatening to give out. “The truth about why everyone said I was infertile.”

Her jaw clenches, eyes sliding shut to brace herself. “John, it’s not-“

 _“You don’t get to call me that!”_ he immediately bellows, causing Teddy to start crying. His head whips towards the sound, and shaky legs carry him back over to the crib to pick the baby up. Soft shushing noises come from him, soothing the boy back into contentment. “So many things make sense now... Why I was so jealous when you had Teddy, why I never felt right in my own skin, why I felt I had to... _do things_ to prove that I was alpha enough.” 

“The numbers showed that alphas would be better received as-“

 _“And the research showed what it would do to me.”_

Butcher stands there in confusion as Homelander rants, trying to think of what they could have possibly done to him that was worse than pumping him full of supe drugs, when finally, the scent hits his nose, making him take a full step back in surprise, his finger almost threatening to come loose from the switch. “Fuckin’ hell. You’re an omega.”

Homelander turns to look over his shoulder at Billy with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, rubbing the baby’s back to keep him calm. “Surprised? You and me both. See, _apparently,_ along with experimenting on me with compound V and raising me like a lab rat, they decided that my biological make up wasn’t... _suitable_ for their business. Now, all the others, they picked alpha kiddies to shoot up with drugs, but me? They didn’t realize until it was too late, so...” He sighs, turning to look at Sitwell again, making direct eye contact. “I’ve been on hormone suppressants and supplements all of my life to try to pass as an alpha. Even to myself.”

The words sink in for a second, the implications of what all that means about Homelander’s behavior, and then Butcher is storming forward, glaring at the woman. “Are ya fuckin’ _insane?_ Even on betas that _consent_ to that shit, the results are diabolical! You did that to a fuckin’ _supe_ without him knowin’, and then just fuckin’ _let him loose_ on the world?! Coverin’ up his shit?!”

Before she can even respond to the furious scolding, Homelander’s eyes fall shut and he falls to his knees once again, breathing heavily as he cradles the child to his chest. Butcher’s alpha pheromones are not helping with the current hormonal chaos in his body.

“Oh god,” Madelyn breathes as she realizes, “You had him disable the implant, didn’t you? Fuck. Homelander, listen to me, you need to get away from here, you’re going to be un-“ 

_“Shut the fuck up!”_

There’s a blinding flash of red in the direction of Sitwell. Followed by the beginnings of an explosion. The last thought to go through Butcher’s mind before he whites out is _well fuck, that didn’t go as planned._

———

Consciousness comes back to him slowly. Sunlight pouring in from a large window registers in his mind, followed by the softness of what’s undoubtedly the nicest mattress he’s ever laid on beneath him. If this is what death is like, it ain’t so bad.

“You’re awake. Good.” 

That voice makes his blood immediately run cold. Homelander. Of course he wouldn’t have been lucky enough for that bastard to let him die. He jerks upright with a prepared hateful gaze, ready to face whatever shite the supe has planned for him now.

What he _wasn’t_ expecting to see was the man sitting delicately on the edge of the bed, hands folded in his lap, eyes on the floor. 

“I, uh- I didn’t mean to kill her. Not like you _care,_ seeing as you strapped a bomb to her, but just...putting it out there.” There’s a pause as he takes his red gloves off slowly and sets them to the side, a slight tremble to his hands. “She was right, of course; I was unstable because of the hormone imbalance.” He takes a deep breath through his nose, lifting his head to look towards the wall now. “It’s strange, you know? To wonder what kind of person you could have been. I had thought about it just a little before, wondered what it would have been like to grow up with a family like everyone else, lied to about being chosen by god and all that shit. But this... I-I don’t even know how to begin processing how different things would have been.”

Butcher breathes out slowly through his nose and carefully pushes himself closer to where the other man is sitting. Homelander was right, he didn’t particularly care that Sitwell was dead, but it was still somewhat nice to know he didn’t mean to. He knows all too well what this man did to Becca, but he also knows what hormone replacement does to people trying to be alphas. Aggression, secondary gender dysphoria, varying libido, disconnect from people, it’s a cocktail of ‘holy shit, don’t do this to a supe’. “You, uh- you settled a bit now, I gather?”

“Well, it’s been a good five hours since I felt like I was turning my stomach inside out from puking, so I guess my body is done protesting the new hormones. But I haven’t lasered anything else, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“That’s it, aye.”

Homelander lets out a little laugh, soft and vulnerable and all too _real_ for Butcher’s taste. “I’m going to go into heat pretty soon, probably. Now that the implant isn’t working, I’m, uh-“ His finger makes a swirling gesture around where his pituitary gland is. “I seem to be pumping it out to compensate.”

His brows go up, realizing why they’re in what’s probably the super cunt’s bedroom. He lets himself take a deep breath, filling his lungs with the scent coming from Homelander. Fuck, if he don’t smell good. He should be disgusted with himself for even considering this. “It’s gonna be a fuckin’ nasty one. You know that, yeah?”

Homelander nods.

He moves closer, trying to keep from purring softly as the scent becomes stronger. “Some omegas keel over after they get off suppressants if they ain’t got a knot.”

Another nod.

“You want me to help, don’t ya?”

The man tenses up, eyes squeezing shut, jaw tight, hands slowly clenching and unclenching. “There isn’t enough time to find another alpha and explain to them.” he whispers, his tone apologetic. An apology. Butcher could get used to hearing that from the cunt. 

“...and if I say no?” 

The soft, pathetic whimper that works it’s way out of Homelander’s throat at that possibility is music to his fucking ears. Serves the bastard right. “Then...you’d need to leave pretty soon, before I start begging and trying to do things.”

Something softens in Billy’s chest at that, reminds him of the fact that Homelander is very much a victim of Vought. He’s trying. Honest to god trying. Even though it could be fatal to not have relief with how long he’s been on suppressants. Besides, having Homelander in his pocket to take down Vought could prove very useful. “... Well, we just gonna sit around like two teenage girls at a sleepover until your panties start gettin’ wet?”

Butcher can smell the spike of arousal as the man whimpers again, turning to him with pleading eyes. A slow, feral grin pulls at his lips. He’s going to enjoy this more than he should.

———

Whatever he had been expecting the supe to be like in bed, which he hadn’t exactly had much time to think about, this hadn’t been it. He’s desperately eager, having ripped off his suit and tossed it to the side as soon as Butcher said he could, but he needs to be guided as well. Needs to be told he’s doing good.

Which is what lead to him on his hands and knees in front of Butcher, back bent perfectly to put his ass on display. There had been a little bit of panic in his eyes when he felt slick starting to gush from him as the heat set in, and it kicked on that damn pesky caretaking alpha instinct.

“See? You’re doin’ just fine, sweetheart. Ain’t a thing wrong with you gettin’ wet. Just natural.” he coos, both palms gripping the omega’s ass firmly and spreading him ever so gently to get a look. A low whistle leaves him at the sight, one thumb swiping over that pretty pink glistening hole. He shouldn’t be surprised, really. Everything about Homelander’s body looks engineered to be as perfect as possible, this wouldn’t be any different.

There’s a soft hiccuped whine from the man, face now buried in his arms as if trying to hide. Well, that just won’t do. “Hey. None of that, now. You ain’t hidin’ from this. Just let it feel good. Bet your guts are burnin’ up now, yeah? Bet you feel too damn empty.” 

His answering nod is frantic, obediently pulling his head up to turn back and look at Butcher, and damn if that isn’t a sight. Homelander looking thoroughly debauched and ruined, face flushed and eyes wet, just from having his hole teased at a little bit. “Please,” It’s the gentlest of whispers, a shaky breath leaving him while he tries to compose himself somewhat. “Please, alpha.”

Butcher can’t help the smirk that tugs at his lips, a low pleased growl rumbling in his chest from being called that. “You ever played with your arse before, sweetheart? Ever got curious? Let someone fuck you?”

The omega shakes his head, reaching back to help hold himself open to try and encourage Billy to do something, _anything_. The desperation is adorable, really. Only makes Billy want to tease more, but he knows that would be cruel in Homelander’s current state. Besides, he can only resist the scent of heat for so long. “Just- just fingers. My own. No one else. Promise.”

Butcher shushes him softly and runs a hand down his back, soothing him like he’s a spooked wild animal. “It’s alright if you have. Just wanna know what I’m workin’ with here. Relax. Let me take care of this, yeah?” With that, he leans in to lap at the fluttering hole presented to him, unable to resist tasting the slick any longer.

He hopes to god the walls in this tower are soundproof, because the surprised yowl Homelander lets out sounds like he’s being flayed alive, not eaten out. It doesn’t sway Butcher from his goal, though. His tongue only pushes in farther, lapping at the soft walls dripping with sweet slick. The taste is _divine,_ making his eyes roll back in his head as he groans low in his chest, one hand reaching down to adjust himself in his jeans. Fuck, he really should have gotten undressed when the supe did. Now he’s going to have to wait before sticking his dick in that perfect tight heat.

“-please, _please,_ alpha, I need- I _need_ it, please, just- god, I need-“ Homelander’s string of begging is unending, mostly whimpered into his pillow as he works his hips back onto Billy’s mouth, fingers digging into the sheets, groans and gasps leaving him with every devilish flick of his tongue. All of it goes straight to Billy’s dick, petting his alpha ego in a way he hasn’t had in years.

Finally, once his head is buzzing with the need to _fuck, claim, breed,_ he pulls back with a wet pop, licking the slick off his lips as he goes for his belt buckle. “Yeah? You want some alpha cock, huh? Need that pretty cunt of yours stuffed?” He’s not gonna have the time to get properly undressed for this first round, not with how his dick already feels ready to pop a fucking knot. He need to be inside of Homelander _now._

His hands stop for just a second, slow down. Homelander. “...John, yeah? That’s what that cunt called ya?”

The man’s back tenses, giving a small nod. “That’s- that’s my name, technically. No one’s called me that in years, though.”

“Well, I ain’t gonna bloody well call ya ‘Homelander’ while I’m stuffin’ your arse, am I?” The head of his cock rests against John’s ass carefully, catching the rim a few time and making the omega gasp, thighs starting to tremble. “John. Lookit me.” Unable to keep from obeying, the supe turns his head slowly, letting out a little stuttering breath when he sees Butcher, just his member out, looking at him like he’s prey. “I’m gonna try and go slow while I can, alright? Anything hurts- stinging, not how you’re aching now- you say somethin’, yeah?”

He knows it’s more than someone like Homelander deserves, but he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself for doing that to anyone, especially to an omega in their first heat. Maybe he really will be different after this. Maybe the hormones did drive him to do all of those things. He’s not going to risk a potential ally on wanting to see the man suffer in this way.

Only once he gets a frantic nod from John does he start to push in, squeezing his eyes tight enough to see galaxies in an effort to hold himself back. Take it slow. Let John enjoy his first time getting fucked. He hears a low groan, muffled, must’ve pressed his face back into the pillow. 

“Alright there, Johnny boy?” he pants, only risking opening his eyes when his balls are resting snugly against a firm ass. -and god, what a gorgeous sight. His cock completely swallowed up inside the most luxurious wet heat he’s ever felt. He should be made a fucking saint for managing to wait.

“Yes- yes, _please._ Please, it doesn’t hurt. Feels so good. _So good._ Need it, need you, need-...” John gulps and reaches back, resting his hand over Billy’s on his hip, squeezing softly. “Need your knot, please, I’ll do anything.”

He can’t help but chuckle at the desperation, as if he’d pull his dick out and say ‘nah, I’d rather not fuck a wet omega cunt’. Finally, his hips start to work. A bit slowly at first, still easing him into it, but rapidly picking up speed. “Alright, alright. I gotcha. Daddy’s gonna take care of ya.” His tone is teasing, playful, jabbing at John for begging when his cock is already in him.

When Homelander clenches that perfect arse around him and gasps like he’s been stabbed, eyes cutting back to stare at him in shock, Billy realizes that he hit on something that’s not as playful as he thought. Fuck. “...yeah? You like that? Like hearing daddy say that?” This time, it’s cautious, praying to god that he didn’t overstep some bound. 

He gets his answer when John screws his eyes shut and lets out a cry, thighs and arse immediately starting to convulse as he gasps for air.

“-holy fuckin’ shite, did you just-?”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I- I didn’t mean to-“ There’s clear panic in his voice, fear that he’s fucked up. Been a bad boy.

“Hey- hey, no. No, c’mere.” He grips John’s shoulder to pull him upright, bringing him back to rest against his own still clothed chest. “Daddy isn’t mad. Happens all the time when you lot are in heat. Feels too good, don’t it?” he purrs in John’s ear, reaching down to stroke his softening cock as he drives his own deeper inside, feeling the supe’s muscles twitch against him from overstimulation. 

The weak nod he gets in response is enough to fuel him further, a low growl rumbling in his chest as a smirk tugs at his lips. So Homelander wants a daddy. He can work with that. 

“You gonna be a good little bitch for daddy? Hm? Gonna let me knot your pretty little cunt and pump you full? Sucked me right up, didn’t ya? Didn’t really even need to wait. Would’ve been a good boy and took it for daddy, I bet.”

John wails in his arms, already convulsing again, pressing back against his body as much as he can. “Please, daddy! Please, I-I need you to fill me! Need your knot!”

How is he supposed to say no to a beautiful plea like that?

———

He can’t remember how many times they fuck, how many times he plunges his knot in, how many times he jerks the supe off just to hear him whimper and wail. But he distinctly remembers the first time John kisses him. 

It’s around halfway through the heat. The supe’s on top, riding him like a fuckin’ champ, looking at him with that blissed out, unguarded expression that makes his chest tight in ways that he going to say he’ll examine later but never actually will. Butcher’s exhausted, ready to rest before the next round, but still he holds on and coos soft praises while the omega works himself on Butcher’s dick. His eyes slip shut just for a moment, and next thing he knows, there’s the faintest press of lips against his own, waking him right the fuck up. 

When his eyes snap back open, John jerks back, looking afraid, scared that he had fucked up.

Maybe being around a bitch in heat had made him soft, but he wants the other expression back. The soft one. The blissful one. So he leans up to meet John’s lips.

If there is a god up there, he needed to stop jerking off to people dying long enough to help William fucking Butcher stop taking care of the supe that killed his wife.

———

For the first time in a long time, Homelander wakes up sore. Sore, but not aching. Not burning up inside. Finally, it was over. He breathes a sigh of relief, rolling over in bed to look at his savior.

But the bed is empty. Of course it is. Butcher didn’t have any obligation to stay. In fact, he had every reason to leave as soon as possible after every awful thing Homelander had done to him.

His chest clenches painfully, mourning the loss of a warm body next to him, telling him everything was going to be okay, that he was being good, when he notices it; a piece of paper resting on the other pillow. Immediately, his chest loosens and the warmth comes flooding back. 

Butcher hadn’t left without saying anything. Hadn’t abandoned him.

Shaking hands grab the paper, a soft tearful laugh leaving him when he reads it.

_John,  
Try not to be such a cunt now._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so decided to just add chapters to this. we’ll see how it goes

Butcher’s footsteps are heavy as he’s lead down into the basement of the pawn shop after Frenchie convinces his ‘friends’ that he’s good, exhaustion starting to set in now that rest is in sight. He’s getting too old to deal with bitches in heat, that’s for fuckin’ sure.

“So what, we’re just all okay with him now?” Hughie snaps from the back of the room, his arms folded in defiance. Fuckin’ Christ, he was hoping not to deal with this shite. The last thing he wants to do right now is explain _why_ he’s so tired. “Where’d you go, huh?”

He takes a second to stare Hughie down before turning partway towards the kid, a cocky smile on his lips. “Where d’ya think? The cunt’s house blew up. -not intentional, mind you, but shite happens.” The anger in the kid’s expression turns to confusion. As if there was anything to be unsure about. Right. He’s not going away without somewhat of an answer. Great. A heavy sigh leaves him, facing Hughie completely now with his palms up. A white flag. He’s too tired to deal with the bitchin’ and moanin’. “Look, I’m sorry for not goin’ after the boys, but I knew they could take care of themselves, yeah? And I was right! Here we all are, fresh as daisies.”

Before Hughie can even open his mouth to argue about how they are clearly _not_ as fresh as daisies, M.M. grabs the remote to turn on the television, switching to the news where Homelander is being interviewed in front of the remains of the house.

 _”-a former Vought employee could do something like this, it’s...it’s unbelievable. I was only able to rescue the baby in time, but it’s what Madelyn would have wanted.”_ Butcher steps closer to the screen with his head cocked, trying to piece together what’s going on. Is Homelander...protecting him? 

The supe’s gloved fist comes to his mouth as his breath starts to catch, as if he were trying not to cry. Damn good actor. All the fans probably buy it. Hook, line, and sinker. _”I-I’m sorry, it’s just hard to talk about.”_

“If you were there, Monsieur Charcutier, then why would the bastard not be implicating you?”

“Haven’t the foggiest, Frenchie. But it can’t be fuckin’ good.”

———

“Obviously, this wasn’t the ideal way for you to find out, and I offer my sincerest apologies for that. However, I’m going to have to ask that you go back on medication as soon as possible.”

Homelander blinks at the CEO, shaking his head ever so slightly as if he must have been dazed. “I’m sorry?”

Sighing, Edgar stands from his desk, walking over to his employee slowly. “What do you think people are going to say when the leader of the Seven stops presenting as an alpha? There will be a wave of mistrust, not only of _you,_ but of the company as well. ‘How many other superheroes are lying about being alphas?’, they’ll ask. We can’t allow that to happen.”

“But you picked alphas for all the others, right? I’m the only one.”

“The people don’t know that. They think that it’s random, remember? No thanks to your little scheme to make super terrorists, by the way.”

The superhero’s jaw tightens, grinding from side to side as he quietly thinks. The dig about terrorists lets him know just where he stands in the man’s favor at the moment, and it’s not looking good. But he can’t go back on that shit. These past few days have been the best he’s ever felt. The most _right._ How could he ever go back to the way he was before? Angry, lost, unsure of where he fit. Now, everything makes so much sense.

“Could you let me think about it?”

“Of course. But refrain from public appearances until you’ve made your decision.”

With a nod, he quickly leaves Edgar’s office, walking briskly down the hall until he makes it to the men’s bathroom to empty his stomach. God, he thought his body would accept the hormones after his heat, but he started turning his guts inside out again yesterday. The stress of having to decide between his job and the adoration of fans, or his comfort is just exacerbating the unease that’s already bubbling inside of him.

As he flushes the toilet and sinks to sit on the floor, a thought comes to his mind. A crazy one. An explanation for why his hormones haven’t settled. Was that possible? Yes, they had sex multiple times, Butcher had even knotted him many...many times, but he always heard that an omega couldn’t get pregnant during their first heat. Or was it an alpha in their first rut was shooting blanks? Fuck, he can’t remember. Fucking wives’ tale bullshit.

He yanks his gloves off and tosses them to the side, tugging up on his suit to expose his stomach. A shaking palm rests just below his navel, feeling for any movement.

There, right against his hand, he feels the faintest unmistakable rhythmic thumping of a heart. His breath catches in his chest, eyes immediately welling up with tears. A baby. _His baby._

Reaching for his phone with the other hand, he types out with trembling fingers ‘alpha hormone therapy during pregnancy’. Article after article of horror stories before he finally finds a doctor’s list of most likely scenarios.

_Difficult pregnancy. Delayed development. Possible life altering conditions._

He can’t let Vought do this to him. He can’t let these people anywhere near his child. If anyone tries to pump him full of that shit, he’ll rip their head off.

———

As much as Hughie wanted to stay mad at Butcher on principle, he couldn’t. Not when the others had welcomed him back with open arms. Not when he had clearly been fucking exhausted. _Especially_ not when he didn’t even put up a fuss about Annie being the one that saved them. No disapproving looks, no implications that she was just using them, not even yelling at Hughie for fucking the enemy. Just...a stiff little accepting nod. It was almost worrying, really.

It’s probably because Butcher is too busy stressing over why the fuck Homelander didn’t sell him out, but Hughie isn’t about to point out to him that he’s being easy on Annie. He needs the least amount of attention possible on who he’s been taking calls from.

Yes, it’s risky to be in communication with each other, but they have too much shit between them to just leave it hanging.

And discussing the next step to taking down Vought, too. Of course. Very important.

So important that his heart skips a beat when he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. His teeth sink into his lip to hold back a smile as he tries to subtly retreat to his sleeping area to answer it.

“Annie, hey, I was hoping you’d-“

_”Hughie Campbell?”_

It’s a male voice. A familiar male voice. Oh god. Bile immediately threatens to rise up in his throat, a shiver of panic running through his body. His hand suddenly feels too clammy to hold the phone, like it’s going to slip out.

_”... Hello? Hellooo? Is this-?”_

“What have you done with her?” His own boldness surprises him as he cuts Homelander off, hoping his hammering heart isn’t loud enough to be heard by the supe’s ears.

 _”With who? Starlight? Oh, for fuck- Please, tell the kid.”_ There’s a rustling sound, the phone being passed maybe? _”I’m alright, Hughie. He asked to call you. Said he has an offer.”_ His eyes slide shut in relief, the knot of panic loosening in his gut. But before he can tell Annie how glad he is to hear her, the rustling happens again. _”There. See? Perfectly fine. Now, I need you to pass on a message to your boss. To Butcher. Tell him we need to meet. I’ll be at the cafe two blocks from Vought Tower. Outdoor seating. Back table. Blue hoodie. Tomorrow at 2 P.M.”_

His mouth must have fallen open in shock while Homelander was speaking, because he has to click his jaw shut to swallow when the call ends abruptly. Well, then. That was all the information he needed, apparently. 

He has to take a few seconds to process, but then as if on auto-pilot, before he’s even really decided to, his feet take him back into the common area, right in front of the T.V. to get everyone’s attention.

The chorus of protesting is immediate. “Oi, kid, out of the way!” “Hey, man, c’mon I was watching that.” “Is everything alright, petite Hughie?” He vaguely registers something being thrown at him, not seeing what it is since his eyes are still glued to his phone. “Did ya fuckin’ go deaf? I _said-“_

“Why the fuck did Homelander call me from Annie’s phone to set up a meeting with you, Butcher?”

Just as quickly as the uproar began, there’s deafening silence. He’s pretty sure he hears a rat fart in the background. 

All eyes turn to their fearless leader, who is looking more and more like an animal that’s ready to fight off being captured. Nervous isn’t a typical look on Butcher. It’s alarming.

“... Tell me everything he said.”

“He wants you to meet him tomorrow at that fancy cafe near Vought Tower. Annie said he has an offer for you. He’ll be at a back table, outside, in a blue hoodie.”

The man in question leans forward with his elbows on his knees, running his hands over his face and nodding slightly. Oh fuck, he’s not just considering it. He’s actually going to go. What the fuck.

“Butcher,” M.M. starts slowly, cautiously, “Why is Homelander wanting to meet with you?”

Before Butcher can even properly glare at the man, Frenchie is cutting in. “He probably wants to trade Annie for Kimiko. We cannot give her up to-“

“No. No, I talked to Annie. She said he...asked her? To use her phone?” There’s the softest hint of a laugh from Butcher as M.M. and Frenchie turn to Hughie in synch, looking at him like he just said Vought isn’t so bad. “I know, it sounds crazy to me too! But...she didn’t sound like she was in danger. Just. Confused. Like us.”

Despite said confusion, Frenchie is still relieved, glancing over to where Kimiko is watching all of them. “Alright, then it is time we ask the question we have been avoiding.” he announces, standing with purpose and walking over to stand next to Hughie, arms crossed as he stares down Butcher. “Monsieur Charcutier, why are you alive? You were at Sitwell’s house, yes? You strapped a bomb to her, but you say he was the one who killed her. Why did he not kill you as well?”

Butcher levels the frenchman with a glare and tries to get up from the couch, only to be blocked by M.M.’s sturdy arm. “Answer the question.”

He has the audacity to look indignant as he glances between all of them, offended that they would make him answer for shit. Finally, his hands come up in defeat, a huffy sigh leaving him. “Alright, alright. Sitwell fucked him over, yeah? Lied to him about some serious fuckin’ stuff. I called her a stupid cunt for doing it, so he must’ve appreciated that enough to keep me alive. Happy?”

The tension almost visibly bleeds out of the room, everyone seeming to accept his explanation. They want to believe him. Trust him.

“Alright. So what’d he call me for? Do you know?”

“We’ll find out tomorrow, won’t we?”

———

He’s going to regret this, he knows it. He knows it as soon as he spots the blue hoodie- a _Homelander_ hoodie, no less. Fuckin’ great. A real master of disguise, this one is.

When he sits down, though, he’s suddenly not so sure of that regret when the man perks up, blue eyes gazing at him in appreciation, paired with a bright, bright smile. 

“Billy! You came! I was starting to worry.”

Had he been intentionally late just to exert some control over the situation? Possibly. It’s also possible that he had to pace in the cafe and give himself a pep talk. Who’s to say.

“John. Very subtle outfit choice. I’m sure no one will notice.” He’s slouching in his chair, giving off an air of confidence that he doesn’t quite have. When it was just Homelander, the twisted superhero, he knew how to approach him; with burning hatred and disgust. Now that he’s John, the man that might not be completely fucked up, he doesn’t know what to do.

The supe rolls his eyes, still smiling. “Gimme a break, I haven’t been out as a civilian in years. Had to raid the Vought store for something to wear. You, uh-“ His gaze flicks over Butcher quickly. “You look good, though. Real good, actually.”

Oh. Well. Fuck. _That_ wasn’t what he was expecting from this meeting, not in the slightest. All the more reason for him to have refused to wear a wire for the boys to hear.

His stunned silence makes John’s smile fade, shrinking in on himself ever so slightly. 

“Was that weird? That was weird. Sorry.“ One hand comes up to rub the back of his neck awkwardly as he looks away, cheeks pink. Fuck, that shouldn’t be adorable. None of this should be appealing in any way.

Butcher clears his throat awkwardly, shifting forward in his seat with determination. “Hughie said you had an offer. It better not just be an attempt at a booty call.”

“Oh! Right, uh-“ John reaches into the pocket of his hoodie, taking out a small blue vial. What the _fuck?_ Why would he have V? “Get this to whatever news station you think will make the biggest shitstorm.” 

His eyes flick between the vial and John’s face. Back to the vial. Back to his face. “...what’s in this for you?” As much as he wants to just grab it and hop the fence of the seating area, he needs to be smart about this. Needs to make sure he’s not walking into a trap. 

“They want me back on hormones. Something about it shaking people’s trust in the company. So...” He shrugs, lips pressed together. “Why not show them how bad people’s trust can _actually_ be shaken? After this, they’ll let me do whatever the hell I want as long as I decide to stay.”

Billy can’t help the smile that tugs on his lips, reaching out to grab the vial and curling it into his palm. So not only does he want to stay off of that shit, but he’s mad at Vought. This is a dream come true. One finger extends, pointing at John. _”This..._ This is some good shit. You ever start feeling vindictive towards those cunts again, you better fuckin’ let me know.”

The supe’s smile is back now, as well. Clearly pleased that he’s made Butcher happy. Eager to please an alpha. Oh, he can work with this.

“In fact, gimme your number so you don’t scare the fuck outta the kid again.”

John only smiles wider, reaching for his phone.


	3. Chapter 3

When the news breaks, Homelander makes a show of seeming upset, staring at the TV in the meeting room in shock for five, six, seven, eight- eight seconds seems good, before stomping off down the hall. His jaw is set angrily and he moves with purpose, boots hitting the floor loudly, making sure no one dares to bother him. Only once he’s safe inside his room, back against the door, does he stop holding back his grin.

Billy did it. He leaked V for him. He can hardly believe it.

Now that he’s alone, he can watch the news happily, standing in front of his TV and just flicking through the channels, seeing how many of them are running the story. It’s _everywhere_ , and he couldn’t be more delighted.

“It’s going to be okay now, little guy.” he murmurs, his hand instinctively resting low on his stomach. “Daddy made sure we’d be safe.”

Just the thought of calling Billy that, of their child coming to know him as that, makes his chest tight. Yes, it was incredibly fucking sexy and mind blowing when Billy had referred to himself as daddy in _that_ way, but... This way could be even better. Even more fulfilling. 

Of course, it’s a bit of a pipe dream. Hell, Billy hasn’t even texted him since they met at the cafe. Aren’t alphas supposed to be the one to initiate things? Be the one to pursue? Hunt? He felt like _he_ was supposed to, when he was on that shit. But now he wants to be wooed. He can’t tell an alpha that’s not trying to woo him that he’s pregnant. That would just be ridiculous.

Maybe he needs to drop a few hints.

His blissful daydreaming and planning is interrupted by his door swinging open and Ashley rushing inside, his hand just barely jerking away from his stomach quick enough. Of course. Only a few people would be dumb enough to come into his room uninvited, and poor naive, overwhelmed Ashley is certainly one of them.

“Okay. Okay. Don’t panic. We’re not panicking.” She’s immediately pacing, her heart beating hard enough for the sound to practically fill the room. For him, at least. “This is fixable. We can do this. We just need to get your statement out there as soon as possible. A press conference. Something where people can see your face, hear you say it. They’ll believe that more.”

He stretches back on his sofa, arms folded behind his head. God, it’s taking everything in him not to smirk, to visibly revel in her panic. “I’m not allowed to make public appearances right now.”

She stops in her tracks, head snapping towards him with wide, terrified eyes. Slowly, carefully, she takes a few steps closer. “...if this is about the hormone thing, I’m sure I can talk to Mr. Edgar. Get him to-“

“Ashley, let me ask you something;” He sits forward now, elbows propped on his knees. “What makes you think I _want_ to make a statement?” There’s a moment to let her respond, even though he knows she’s too stunned to. “This isn’t _my_ fucking mess to clean up. I’m not a part of the company, I’m an asset that you manage. I don’t have to _answer_ for your shit.”

She watches in silent terror as he gets up, heading for his closet to get out some civilian clothes. God, her fear is so satisfying. Madelyn wouldn’t have shown her cards like this. Ugh. Madelyn. Just like that, he unintentionally soured his own mood. Great.

Once his outfit is picked out, he turned back to the woman, one brow raised. “You can go now.” He makes a shooing motion with his hand, and she’s moving before he’s even finished speaking. Perfect. Keep them scared, unsure. That’s his best play in this company right now.

After spending far too long in the mirror preening, double checking his outfit choices, making sure his ass looks fuckable in those jeans, he reaches for his phone. His lip is between his teeth as he texts the number that Billy gave him for the first time, heart hammering.

 _hey. meet to celebrate?_

———

Butcher isn’t fully sure what to expect when he opens the motel room door with the number that John texted, but seeing the man in casual clothes bent over pouring champagne is definitely one of the better options. God, he likes seeing John dressed like this so much more than that stupid Homelander suit.

Especially when it’s jeans that hug his ass like that, fuckin’ christ. They leave nothing to the imagination. -not like he needs to imagine, though. He’s thought about that body naked and spread out in front of him more than he’d truly like to admit to himself.

“Billy! I’m so glad you came!” 

He’s snapped out of his memories by a glass being gently pushed into his hand, John’s bright and eager smile flashing at him. Well, he’s never one to turn down a drink. When he takes a sip, there’s a pleased little noise from John that affects him in ways he’d prefer not to dwell on.

“John. Takin’ care of yourself up there? Bloodsuckers leavin’ you alone?”

There’s a put upon sigh as John wanders further into the small room, eyes glancing around the humble accommodations. They’ll do for now. He can pay to have things replaced if needed. “Oh, I take care of myself just fine. Not as well as when you were there, though.”

Billy just barely manages to not choke on his drink, quickly downing it and setting the glass aside. So that’s how this is going to go. “What happened to tryin’ to not make things weird, huh?”

“Oh, _that?_ That sort of just...slipped. I didn’t know the interest was mutual then, so it was awkward.”

“And you’re so fuckin’ sure it’s mutual _now?”_

He turns to look at Billy, a confused but fond expression on his face. “Well, you’re here, aren’t you?” There’s a small shrug, trying not to look _too_ cocky. “I didn’t promise you anything, didn’t tell you I had any information, just said I wanted to celebrate and...here you are.” Now he doesn’t have to hold back letting his eyes dance over Billy’s figure, taking it in hungrily. God, even those stupid floral shirts are sexy to him now.

Butcher almost looks caught, like he’s been called out, having to think over what John said and realize that it’s true. There wasn’t anything offered for this meeting, he just...showed up. Fuck.

“Anyway, I want to see what it’s like when I’m not delirious from hormones. Sure, I’ve tried a few things on my own, but...I need to compare to the real deal.” John sits on the edge of the bed, still sipping his drink, still looking Billy over appreciatively. “Besides, is there a better way to celebrate than some truly _incredible_ sex?”

Even though John has moved on to slowly and suggestively tugging on the hem of his shirt, Billy’s brain is still stuck on the idea that John did things to himself. While thinking of him. Shit, that’s sexier than he wants to admit.

“So what, you want me to fuck you again so you can check that you like gettin’ stuffed? Why d’you need it to be me, then?” He may be arguing, but he’s still taking off his belt. He’s got a feeling that John is going to have a good counter, and he’s not exactly putting his all into coming up with reasons not to do this in the first place. Just like he didn’t come up with any reasons not to show up.

John’s eyes roll as his shirt is tossed aside, laying back on the bed now to shimmy out of those tight jeans. “Because I remember _you_ being good. If I go to some other alpha and don’t like it, I’m just gonna assume they’re a bad lay.” Once he’s naked, he crawls towards the edge of the bed to reach for Billy, slinking along like a cat, prowling for his prey. “And maybe I need someone who will fuck me like they mean it, no matter who I am.”

Butcher doesn’t make any attempts to stop him when he’s grabbing onto the remaining jeans in play, looking up with those big, blue eyes as he unbuttons them. Immediately, he’s reaching inside to palm Billy through his boxers, a flush already rising to his cheeks as he grins. “You’re already getting hard.” The supe almost sounds giddy, delighted that he has that affect on the alpha. He’s doing a good job.

“Alright, don’t get too full of yourself just yet. I’m sure you’ve spent enough time lookin’ in a fuckin’ mirror to know you’re a good lookin’ bitch. Lay back, we’ll see if you’ve improved.” His fingers are on the buttons of his muted floral shirt, trying to undo them as quickly as he can without tearing any of them off since he’ll have to leave this hotel. Preferably clothed. He’s mostly successful, only one button clattering to the floor as he mutters _shit._ When he looks back up from sliding off his shirt and shucking his underwear, his mouth goes dry, heat already pooling in his stomach. 

There’s John, laying back against the pillows, thighs spread and held open with one hand, while two fingers circle around his slick hole with the other. He could pop a fuckin’ knot right here and now.

He tries to keep his scrambling from looking like what it is as he rushes to get on top of John, grabbing both of his wrists to pin them above his head. Despite easily being able to stop him, the supe lets him do what he wants, no protests, just a thick swallow and a wide eyed gaze that turns lustful when two new fingers are introduced instead. Billy’s rough, calloused fingers that brush against his sensitive nerves in all the right ways, making him shiver. “You’re not scared by gettin’ wet anymore. Good. Good boy. You’re learning.” 

As soon as the praise leaves his lips, John can’t help but let out a low whine, a new rush of slick pooling around Billy’s fingers. “Not scared anymore, no. Not after you showed me how good it feels.” His legs wrap around Billy to try and pull the alpha closer, encourage him to just hurry up and get that dick in him. “I got so wet whenever I’d think about what you did for me, I’d have to stop what I was doing and go get off.”

Billy can’t help the low growl that escapes him, a third finger pushing into John now. He probably doesn’t need the prep, but that’s not a theory that needs to be tested right now, no matter how sexy the omega is. “Yeah? Stop takin’ that shit and all of a sudden you got a greedy little cunt, huh? Gettin’ wet all the time? Needin’ a good fuck? I’ll take good care of that for ya, how’s that sound?”

John nods frantically, his heels sliding along Billy’s lower back to try and find purchase, anchor himself. “Yes, so greedy, please. Need it.“ The word ‘daddy’ almost escaped out of his throat, tacked onto the end of his plea, but he manages to clamp down on it, keep it from slipping free. It’s so shameful, how much he’s thought of calling Billy that, thought of when Billy said it himself. Even with Madelyn, that sort of pet name came out so rarely because of his shame in needing to be cared for.

After what feels like an eternity for the impatient supe, but really is only just enough time for Butcher to work three fingers into him and stretch a little, finally the blunt head of a cock is pushing into him. A low groan is drawn from his chest, head falling back as he’s filled so completely, finally getting what he’s craved since waking up to that note. 

He barely has time to process how good it is before Billy is moving, thrusting in completely, making his eyes roll back in his head as he clings desperately to the alpha’s broad shoulders. _”Oh, god._ Yes, _yes,_ just like that. Fuck me- god, please, fuck me like you mean it.” 

The low growl Billy gives in response is enough to make the omega whine and shiver, his channel flooding with more slick and causing a filthy squelching sound as Billy fucks into him, throwing him off slightly as he’s trying to set a pace of forceful thrusts. “Jesus Christ, John. Weren’t fuckin’ ‘round. Desperate little cunt of yours is gushin’.”

Just to drive it home further, he squeezes said desperate little cunt along Billy’s length, trying to get him to lose it that little bit more. He wants a knot, wants to feel that delicious stretch that makes his mouth water and his womb ache. He didn’t even know that was a thing before, but here he is, feeling an ache to be filled like that. There’s already a vacancy filled for anything a knot might deposit, but that apparently doesn’t stop a horny omega brain from craving it, he’s found. In fact, it’s only made him want to be filled with seed _more._ The seed that already made the life inside of him.

But as soon as there’s the slight bit of flaring at the base of Butcher’s cock as they fuck, the alpha slows down. Pulls back. “No,” he whines, hands sliding up into Billy’s hair, pulling him down into a sweet kiss to plead with him. “Give it to me. Wanna feel it.”

“Too much outside’a heats, most times. Let’s not push it, yeah?” The alpha’s voice is soft and smooth like velvet, trying to soothe him and keep him placated while being considerate for his lack of experience, as well. A caring gesture.

This won’t do.

It’s the omega’s turn to growl as he wraps his legs more firmly around Butcher’s waist, heels pressing against the small of his back. “I _said,_ ” comes his low, authoritative tone as he tightens his legs and digs his heels in to force Billy’s hips forward with his strength, popping the subtle flare of that knot in, “ _give_ it to me.”

Butcher can’t help how his knot flares even more, grunting in surprise and following it with a groan as he’s shoved inside by John’s strength. It shouldn’t be as hot as it is, almost being threatened by John, it really shouldn’t, but his cock is throbbing and his balls are tightening all the same. It’s just downright sexy how much the supe wants him. 

“Fuck me, y’really are desperate, aren’t ya? Want a knot even when your sweet li’l omega instincts aren’t tryin’ to get ya knocked up, huh? Fuckin’ slut for it. Go on, then. Take it. Take my fuckin’ knot in your wet cunt.” His teeth are bared as it inflates more, rocking deep inside John until it’s swelled too far for him to even move, locking them together as his balls finally draw up tight.

When the first pulse of seed splashes against his insides, John finally lets his grip go slack, melting into moans as his eyes roll back in his head, hardly even registering that he’s spilling onto his own stomach. _Yes_ , this is what he needed. This is _exactly_ what he needed.

Billy is what he needs.

——

John is a cuddler. Never in a million years would Butcher have guessed that the man behind Homelander was a cuddler, but here he is, feeling the proof against his body.

Right after they finished round two, without a knot because he isn’t a damn supe with damn supe stamina, John had stretched like a cat and proceeded to curl up against his side, head on his fucking chest and everything. Jesus Christ.

He’s making soft, content noises now as his finger traces over Butcher’s pecs, shuffling a little every so often.

It’s...relaxing. Oddly. John’s touch, his soft noises, his smell. He needs to wrap this the fuck up before he starts having to think about all of this more

“I should get goin’ before they send a search party.” he grumbles, carefully pulling his arm from around John and sitting up. The supe frowns, but there’s no frustration to it. No clenched jaw of anger at him for leaving. It’s the pout of a child that knows play time has to be over, even if they don’t like it. Good. He’s still being reasonable about their interactions. He’ll need to be, if they’re going to stay allies.

John rolls onto his stomach to watch Billy get dressed, feet swinging up in the air behind him playfully. “Speaking of Scooby and the rest of the gang, what’s on the agenda next to strike fear into the heart of Vought?”

He chuckles as he pulls on his floral shirt, starting to button it and attempting to disguise the fact that one is missing as best he can. “Waitin’ to see how much shit they’re in an’ how they’re gonna try to wriggle out of it, really. Until then, it’s just watchin’ you lot, makin’ sure none of ya misbehave.” His gaze fixes on the supe, playfully stern but with an undercurrent of actual threat.

John raises his left hand, blinking those big blues at Billy. “I’m being good, scout’s honor. Trying not to be a cunt.”

“You weren’t never a scout.” he scoffs as he zips up his jeans, ducking his head to hide a smile.

“No, but I was according to Vought’s fake life story, so I know the oath. That kinda counts.” There’s a little laugh, but his expression turns sullen. Serious. “I’m- I mean it, Billy. I’m trying to change. Trying to...be better.”

Butcher slows a bit as he’s getting ready to leave, thinking through what he feels about what John is saying. It’s true that he’s a victim of Vought, but it’s still in question if it’s even possible for him to make up for what he’s done. Who he made victims of, himself.

He turns back to John where he’s still naked on the bed, vulnerable, and gives a nod of acknowledgment. “If you can play a part, I’ll let you know. And any more brilliant ideas like the last come to you, share ‘em.”

John has to hold back from being too eager with his returning nod, flopping onto his back with a big smile as soon as Butcher is out the door.

“Hear that, little one? Daddy wants us to help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for taking so long, got a block writing the sex scene while my brain kept thinking of where the plot would go afterwards. it was a whole ass mess


End file.
